


I think i love you

by gokatyperry



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: ...bare, F/F, Just Bear With Me, Lexa is italian, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-27 14:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8405812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gokatyperry/pseuds/gokatyperry
Summary: Your life has become like one of those cheesy romance novels aimed at lonely middle aged women. You hated those novels.More accurately, your life is like what one of those novels would be like if there was ever any actual possible truth to them. Aka- Clarke has had enough and buys a ticket to Paris with no plan but to get away, and finds herself in the company of a charming Italian woman named Lexa. Spoiler, they fall in love.





	1. Unexpected meetings

**Clarke**

Your life has become like one of those cheesy romance novels aimed at lonely middle aged women. You hated those novels.

More accurately, your life is like what one of those novels would be like if there was ever any actual possible truth to them.

You always wanted to travel, and you’d always loved art, and you’d always dreamed of living somewhere quaint with a loved one and just…living. And one day things had just became too much. It was nearing the anniversary of your father’s death, and you’d just been fucked over by the same boy for a second time. You weren’t stupid, but for some reason you’d gone back to him. And he’d hurt you again.

Surprise Surprise.

On top of that your mother, Abby, had announced her engagement to her boyfriend Marcus Kane. He was sweet and you liked him quite a bit, but it had only been three years since your father’s death and the wound was just too fresh.

So you took every last bit of money you could scrounge up, packed one backpack’s worth of clothes and supplies, and bought a plane ticket to Europe. You had no idea where you wanted to go exactly, but Paris had seemed nice and it was the cheapest and earliest flight you could find, so it’s the one you chose. You’d boarded without a second thought, stared at the ceiling most of the flight, took a cab into the city and probably left a ridiculously large tip, and then wandered until your legs didn’t want to move anymore.

And that’s how you ended up standing in the middle of the city lost, alone, and without a single clue what the hell you were doing.

It was a nice day at least.

You figured that you probably had enough cash for a night before you had to buy a return ticket. Not much of an escape. You had the money on your card of course, but that meant your family and friends could track you, and that defeated the purpose of running away.

There’s a small fountain nearby, and you move to sit on it, placing your bag down between your feet.

It was the beginning of summer vacation so it wasn’t like you’d had any real responsibilities to make you feel guilty for leaving. There were your friends and family, whom you hadn’t informed about your trip, some of whom were now texting you about your whereabouts. You decide to keep things simple.

You know using your data is probably going to fuck you but you honestly could care less, so you open up facebook and take a picture of your surroundings. You caption it “I guess I’m in Paris. This will be fun” and you close out of the app, and then switch your phone to airplane mode.

You look up in time to see a young woman walking towards you. Her light blue button-down shirt is half-tucked into her black jeans, she’s got a gold watch on her left wrist and you can see the word “love” tattooed there in Italian. She’s carrying a messenger bag over her shoulder, and frankly is absolutely gorgeous. She offers you a friendly smile and sits next to you.

“Salve.”

You panic because that is definitely not English.

“Hi.”

She smiles understandingly and speaks again in English. Her accent is thick but it sounds Italian, which would make sense considering her tattoo. “It was hello. My English is not great.”

“Well my Italian is shit so,” You shrug and you both laugh.

“My name is Lexa.” She extends a hand towards you and you take it, introducing yourself as well.

“Clarke.”

She takes your hand firmly and looks into your eyes as you shake. It is slightly intimidating, but you can tell she’s merely being friendly.

“Are you waiting for someone, Clarke?”

The handshake ends and you rest your hands on either side of you, leaning back and looking out towards the city in front of you. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You tell her everything, trying to keep it as succinct as possible. She seems like she’s listening and she nods occasionally. You aren’t sure just how much she understands, but it seems nice that someone cares. As you speak you realize that you probably sound like one of those crazy strangers that makes everyone uncomfortable by oversharing, but you had things to say and she was there to listen.

She nods as you finish. “I am sorry.” She offers, her brow furrowing. “You do not have a place to stay?”

“No. I really don’t.”

She opens the outer pocket of her bag and pulls out a small piece of paper with an address scribbled on it. “This is good hotel. Not too much,” she rubs her fingers together to gesture money. “When do you go back to America?”

“Tomorrow probably.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah. I didn’t really plan so,”

She shakes her head. “When do you _want_ to go back?”

You stare at her, unsure of how to answer. She takes the liberty of answering for you.

“Stay with me. I will be here 2, 3 days. Stay. Relax. Enjoy Paris. Then go home.”

You continue to stare at her in disbelief, but you mull over your options. Lexa seems trustworthy and frankly staying with her makes your stay a lot easier. Worse comes to worse she’s a murderer and you die, which wouldn’t be so bad you suppose.

“Ok.”

She stands swiftly and nods to you, not giving you the time to reconsider. “Let us go check in. And after, we will explore.”

You let her take the lead as you walk to the hotel, but just barely. Her pace is swift and you feel it in your calves and you really wish she’d slow down, but you figure you should just suck it up and follow. It takes about ten minutes to reach the hotel and you can only imagine how expensive it is. She holds the door open for you and whispers in your ear as you move towards the desk, placing her hand gently on your back.

“Don’t wander. French men are like hounds descending on an injured deer.”

“In my defense I’m more of a lion than a deer.”

You share a smirk and she removes her hand, and you can’t help but miss its presence. “I’m sure you are.”

You stand next to her at the reception desk as she talks to the receptionist, staring out into the hotel lobby. You have no idea what Lexa and the receptionist are saying so you know there’s no point in even trying to listen to them.

You’re tired and hungry and it’s dawning on you that you are in a foreign country with no concept of money or location and you are about to get a hotel room with a complete stranger. It’s like something out of a Hitchcock thriller.

You’re starting to think cheesy middle aged rom-com sounds pretty good.

\--------- ------

**Lexa**

You step out into the crisp Paris air and breathe in deeply, taking it all in. You haven’t been here since you were little, which essentially makes this a new experience for you. You don’t have any real plans and you kind of can’t wait to shower and sleep. It is a nice afternoon however, and there’s a beautiful fountain nearby. You’ve always liked fountains. The cool blue water flowing out of whatever crafted design the artist had chosen; it was peaceful.

There’s a young woman sitting on the edge with her arms folded. Her brow is furrowed and you feel like it might cheer her up to say hello. She can’t be much younger than yourself, and she’s already probably the most wonderful piece of art you’ve ever seen. You have no intention of being anything but cordial, but if you’re lucky there may be some flirting, which always makes you feel good. You know you are attractive and pretty girls affirming that only makes you feel better. Not that you have an ego. Because you don’t. You simply know your worth.

You push those thoughts off and move to sit next to her. She catches your eye as you approach and you greet her in Italian out of instinct. You sit close to her, but with enough distance that it shouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

She looks startled and greets you back in English, and you chuckle to yourself. You respond again in English, hoping that you are recalling it correctly. She ends up telling you about her life, not with enough detail to make it weird, but with enough to signify someone who was quite lost at the moment. You feel bad and consider buying her a coffee if you’re going to be staying in the same area, but as it turns out she doesn’t even have a place to stay. You find it incredibly childish that someone would abandon their life and head out into a foreign country with no plan or place to stay, but you know you can’t leave her stranded in good conscience. There were a lot of bad people and a lost American girl was a prime target for them. She needs the escape, and you wouldn’t mind the company.

You purposely remain a few steps ahead of her as you head to the hotel. You keep her in your peripherals at all times to ensure her safety, but you can’t help but mess with her a little. You can tell she doesn’t like the pace you are keeping but you find it cute the way her forehead crinkles as she tries to keep up. She does a pretty good job all things considered, and her lack of whining rules her out as the annoying American blonde stereotype.

Once you reach the hotel you tell her to keep close, and her retort is surprisingly confident. You decide you rather like Clarke. She leans against the desk in a typically rude American fashion, but the receptionist doesn’t seem to mind.

“Good afternoon Madam. How may I help you today?”

“Checking in. Under Lexa Woods.”

He nods and types a few things into his computer. “Ahh yes, Suite 207.” He smiles and looks from Clarke back to you and winks. “Young love is so beautiful, and what a joy to explore it in the City of Love itself.”

You are a bit taken by his comment, unsure of quite why he’d though you and Clarke were together. “Oh no, I’m just merely assisting a friend.”

He smiles wider and winks again. “Whatever you wish to call it.”

He passes you the single key and you realize that it does look a bit like a romantic getaway. Two people, one room in Paris, barely any luggage between them….you had been whispering in her ear as you’d entered and she was practically touching you now. The thought makes your cheeks flare red.

You thank him, and you and Clarke head towards the elevator to get to your room.

\--------- -------------- -----------

**Clarke**

Lexa lets you enter the room first. It’s spacious; equipped with a queen bed, a desk, a tv, full bathroom, and a single large window offering a view of the city. You’re a bit disappointed that you can’t see the Eiffel tower from the window, but you can only complain so much.

The bed looks unnaturally comfortable and all you want to do is throw yourself into it and sleep. You throw your bag into a corner and sit on the edge of the bed.

Lexa stands, hovering by the bathroom. “I was hoping to take a shower, if you did not mind of course.”

You don’t mind, and you figure you should probably shower as well. You let her go first and are left to your thoughts. She doesn’t take long at all and you wonder if she’s really a fast showerer or if she’s just being polite. She comes back out wearing the same jeans as before and a black tank top. Her shirt is in her hands, wet like her hair. She opens the window and hangs her shirt off a chair in front of it.

“Hopefully that will clean it.” She says, “I was not expecting company so I did not pack much.”

You laugh, only having had brought a few things yourself. “It’s fine really.”

She smiles kindly and collapses on the bed next to you, sprawling out over it and making a noise you wish wasn’t provocative to you.

“Oh this is nice.”

She’s wearing dark rimmed glasses now and she looks incredible relaxed. Her tank lets you see her tattoos more clearly. There’s amore written on her wrist, a blooming flower on her left forearm, and a tribal pattern on her upper right bicep. Her muscles are tight and defined and you can’t help but rake your eyes down her body. Her lips are plump and her legs are long and her ass is fantastic not that you’d looked, and her fingers!

Oh how you wish you weren’t so hormonal.

“You know,” you offer, “your English is pretty good.”

She opens her eyes and smiles up at you. “Good to know. Your Italian is still shit. As is your French I am assuming.”

“Thanks.” You deadpan, and she smirks back at you.

“After you shower, we should go get some coffee and something to eat. I’m plane-lagged-”

“-jet lagged?”

She cocks her head. “Is that it? We did not take a jet?” She shakes it off. “Anyway, I am jet-lagged, as you American’s say, so I was thinking we should have an easy night.”

“That’s fine with me.” You reply. “Honestly I just want to get drunk and sleep.”

She laughs loudly at that. “May I ask how old you are?”

“18.”

“Alright. Then we will shower, get coffee and dinner, and then get drunk and go to sleep.”

“I’m not intruding on any actual plans right?” You ask, truly hoping not to be a burden.

“Not at all.”

It looks like she’s drifting off to sleep so you head into the bathroom without saying anything else.

She’s completely passed out by the time you finish, and despite how awkward the situation is you think it’s kind of cute. She’s curled up a bit since she’d first laid down, leaving you enough room to crawl in next to her. You’re hungry, but it’s still early in the afternoon and a nap sounds really good. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

\------ ---------------

The smell of warm coffee wakes you from your slumber. Lexa’s stretched out in the chair by the window watching the tv with subtitles in place of sound. She smiles at you as you wake.

“ _Ben tornato_.” _(Welcome back)_

“What about a tornado?”

She sends you an unimpressed glare and you respond by sticking your tongue out. “I’m not just gunna wake up fluent in Italian.”

“One can dream.” She gestures towards the desk, where there’s a neatly arranged display of coffee, sugar, some milk, and a few flavored sweeteners. “I was not sure how you like it, so I got an assortment.”

“Grazie.” You try, raising a brow hopefully.

Her face lights up in a smile. “Ahhhh see! You are fluent after all.”

You pour yourself a cup and catch a glance at the clock on the nightstand. You’d managed to take a six hour nap. “Well shit.” You mumble. “There goes most of our day.”

“Do not worry. I found a nice restaurant not too far away and a pub you might like. We can catch a few drinks and then head back. I’ve got a full day planned for tomorrow.”

“You’ve been busy. Can I know what’s on this list?”

“Eh,” She chuckles, “It is a surprise.” You raise a brow skeptically and she elaborates. “I will tell you the Eiffel tower is on the list.”

You sit in silence together and sip your coffees, turning your attention to the news. You hold your phone in your hands, staring at the screen. It’s still on airplane mode, and you know the second you turn it off you’ll be flooded with messages and calls. You can feel Lexa’s gaze on you and you look up to meet it.

“You do not have to stay.”

“No,” you assure her, “it’s not that. I’ve just never disconnected from everyone like this before, and I don’t feel as bad about it as I think I should.”

Her gaze softens and she stands and grabs her wallet from her bag. “Disconnecting is easier when you have company.”

It’s an odd thing to say, but you think you understand what she’s saying. She’s running too, from what you aren’t sure, but she’s running. And so are you, and somehow you two found each other and everything is a little less lonely.

You leave for the restaurant and it’s cooler than you’d anticipated. Lexa, observant as always, notices and tells you that you can buy some warmer clothes tomorrow.

When you arrive at the restaurant you notice that you are underdressed, but Lexa is too so it makes you feel a little better. You don’t understand anything anyone is saying but Lexa’s fluency in French is a lifesaver. They seat you at a dimly lit table and the whole place has an incredibly romantic vibe, like the city itself. The waiter says something that you assume is a joke because Lexa laughs, and you think you see her face blush red. 

The menu is entirely in French, which surprises you even though you had no logical reason to assume it would be in anything else. Lexa helps you sort through the menu to find something you liked and she orders for you to save you from the embarrassment of attempting French.

She attempts to ask you more about yourself, but you would rather hear more about her. She’s fluent in Italian, French and English and is currently trying to finish business school. She’s currently living off of the support of her sister, which she isn’t proud of but it’s a way for her to survive.

“So why are you in Paris?”

“Well.” She starts, “I was returning from Los Angeles.” She shifts in her seat and looks away from you. “My ex-girlfriend moved there a few years ago. We stayed close and eh, she wanted me to visit.”

You think maybe she’s nervous about having come out to you, considering you’re sharing a bed. You wouldn’t care even if you were straight, that’d just be shallow, so you choose to let that point go unacknowledged. “Did you like LA?”

She smiles faintly and relaxes visibly. “It was interesting.”

You laugh, knowing exactly what she means. You’d been to visit once when you were 16 and you were well aware of just how the city operated. “Yeah it’s a whole new world over there. My mom’s boyfriend,” you scoff, “stepdad I guess, is from there. I love cities but I don’t know how he did it.”

“I punched someone.”

“Oh yeah?”

She smirks again. Normally the cockiness would irk you but it’s almost charming on Lexa. Mostly because her attempts to be suave leave her seeming more like a total dork.

“He was trying to pick the pocket. Costia was too caught up in the building design to notice but I did. So I punched him very hard.”

“That’s awesome.”

“He did not think so.” She chuckles. “Bastard deserved it.”

“So are you like, secretly a trained warrior or something? Out to protect innocent girls from danger.”

You don’t fail to notice the way her chest practically puffs out with pride. “It is a privilege to defend a young woman’s honor.”

“So protective. I’ll check that off.”

She smiles again. “To answer your question, no I am not a warrior. I just do not like assholes. Although admittedly I am asshole so,” She shrugs.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as one.”

“That is because you do not know me well. The eh, sarcasm, it tends to be quite strong.”

“I’ve been called an incorrigible brat before.”

“Would you be offended if I said I could see it?”

“Wow. You are an asshole.”

Your banter is interrupted as the waiter brings over your food. It looks divine and you dig in, not realizing how hungry you really were. After a few bites you remember that you are in a public place flirting (or at least you think you’re flirting) with a stranger, but when you look up Lexa is as enthralled by her food as you. You catch her right at the perfect moment, when a drop of sauce gets caught on the corner of her mouth. She raises a brow at you.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Nope.”

“No Clarke from America.” She teases, “I think there is something on my face.”

“Nope. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure?” Lexa takes her fork and drags it down her chin, leaving more sauce in its wake. “There is nothing you want to tell me?”

You look around to see if anyone else is seeing this, but it seems you two are in a world of your own. “You are such a dork!”

“I do not understand. I merely ask if I have something on my face? And you tell me I am a dork? _Marmocchio incorreggibile_!”

“Did you just call me an incorragable brat in italian?”

“What happened to not being fluent?”

You shake your head and crumple your napkin, tossing it at her. “You’re a total dork.”

The waiter comes over to check on your meals and Lexa tries and fails to wipe her face before he can see her. He mumbles something to you and passes you a napkin, mumbling something else and chuckling before walking away.

Once he’s out of earshot you lean in towards Lexa. “What did he say?”

She smiles and refolds her napkin in her lap. “He said that your girlfriend is a handful and that I would probably need the extra napkin.”

“Think we’ll get a free dessert if we tell him it’s our anniversary?”

She smiles, looking deeply impressed. “Would it be bad if we tried?”

She waits until the waiter comes by again and motions for him to come near. You smile and let Lexa work her magic.

_“My apologies about my behavior earlier. It’s our anniversary and things have been tough so I was trying to make her laugh.”_

_“No worries madame, you two seem very in love.”_ He glances over to you and you smile and wave like an idiot, and he goes back to speaking to Lexa.

_“She doesn’t speak French does she?”_

_“Not a word.”_

_“Good. I will arrange for a dessert on the house for you both.”_

_“Thank you so much sir.”_

_“No problem at all. Happy anniversary to you both.”_

He leaves swiftly and Lexa gives you two thumbs up, smiling cheekily.

“I hope it’s something chocolate.”

“Most likely not. It will probably be tulipes, or a coffee crème brulee.”

You groan, but honestly you’d be happy with whatever since it’s free. “Did the hotel guy think we were together too?”

“Yes actually he did.”

“Wonder what we can get out of him.”

She laughs again and it makes you feel warm inside. “Maybe we get lucky and get champagne eh?”

“That wouldn’t be a bad way to close the night.”

“We would have to put it into our coffee cups but, I can work with that.”

The waiter brings over your dessert shortly after and Lexa makes a face when she sees she had guessed correctly. You’d never had a crème brule before but as you take the first bite you are incredibly happy that you were in Paris for your first one.

Lexa refuses to let you pay and takes care of the bill for you both, leaving what you assume is a generous tip for the waiter. Once your outside she takes out her phone and calls the hotel. The conversation ends quickly and she ends the call dramatically. “I have done it yet again.” She says proudly. “I do believe you and I will have a bottle of champagne and some chocolates waiting for us back at our room.”

“Oh you are good.”

\------------

You make your way to the bar next, passing a giant book store on the way. It’s closed now, but the lights are on just dimly enough to show the rows and rows of books it contains. You almost don’t realize Lexa’s stopped to stare into it, practically pressing up against the glass. Its cold enough that her breathe leaves the window foggy.

“I think this is how you get pick-pocketed.” You tease. She fades back into reality and looks over to you, her eyes slightly glossy.

“I love books. It is very easy to get lost in them.”

You smile and walk back over to her, looking inside the building yourself. You understand the draw. “We can go tomorrow if you want.” You suggest.

“I would love to but I think if you let me in I might never leave.”

“We can go early. Spend a few hours poking around. I think I see a coffee shop in the corner, so that’ll keep me entertained.”

“You really would want to go?”

“Yeah.”

She nods and claps her hands. “Then we go. Early does mean early though Clarke.”

You pretend offence. “I know. I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll see.”

\------------ -

The bar is quiet and much more upscale than you were used to. You can tell by the way he talks that the bartender is gay, and when he and Lexa begin conversing you have to try and hide the smirk on your face. He begins mixing some drinks and she leans over and whispers to you.

“One free French 75 for us both and one free French blonde for you. I thought it appropriate.”

The bartender brings over your drinks and without thinking you kiss Lexa’s cheek. It helps the façade you think, you just hope you aren’t pushing things too far. On the other hand, you’ve only got two more days with her so why not push it.

You don’t talk much at the bar because he puts a soccer game on and the five other people in the bar get very into it, Lexa included. You aren’t a big fan but you do know quite a few things about the sport from going to Octavia’s games. Lexa spends half of it yelling what is most likely strings of expletives at the players, as if they could hear her.

“You like soccer huh?”

She whips around to face you, her face dead serious. “Did you just say…soccer?”

You put your hands up and feign innocence. “My mistake. I meant,” you pause to summon up your best Italian accent, “futbolle”. You even add a little hand motion with it for emphasis.

She laughs heartily and proceeds to order several more drinks for the both of you.

\------ -

You take an uber back to the hotel because neither of you are in a place to walk back. You’d forgotten about the champagne, which was waiting wrapped up in a red ribbon on your pillows. You lay down, more like flop down, and the bottle rolls and hits you in the head. Lexa grabs the chocolates from the desk and opens them, offering one to you as you wrestle with the cork.

Before you can take one Lexa’s eyes light up and she pulls them back away from you. You watch intrigued as she pulls the desk back next to the bed and sets a chair at each end. She places the chocolates in the middle and takes the bottle from you. She uncorks it with a screw you hadn’t noticed and sets the bottle next to the chocolates. She pulls a chair back for you and motions for you to sit in it. You oblige, and she runs to the bathroom for one last touch to add to the table. She places the two electric candles from the bathroom onto the table.

“Now it is good.”

You feel bad for pointing it out after she went through the effort to set up the display, but you don’t have any wine glasses to drink from. “I think we may have to use the coffee cups.”

Lexa hasn’t stopped smiling since the bar but you think it’s gotten a little wider. She grabs them from the side of the fridge and gives them a rinse before pouring them each a cup of champagne.

You raise the cup for a toast, “Happy Anniversary.”

She clinks her cup against yours and you both drink.

You both finish the bottle and the chocolates in record time.

\-------- ----------------------

**Lexa**

You’ve definitely drank more than you should have. It seems Clarke might be a bad influence on you, not that you mind. You turn on the TV for some ambience and go to search for the Language option, but Clarke stops you. She’s confident that she can discern what’s happening without them. You challenge her, flipping to a soap opera instead.

Her eyes light up she leans back in her chair. “Alright so that girl there? She’s the main character. And that guy? He’s a fuckboy. Total fuckboy. She’s gunna break up with him for some guy named Brad, no..this is France….Antwon. And then fuckboy will be like no baby I love you! And She’ll be like Oh no who do I choose! I just don’t know! Oh woe is me!”

You laugh as she makes voices for each of the characters, acting out their stories. She’s actually doing a pretty good job and you accidently laugh so hard you fall out of your chair.

“Ahh shit!” You groan from the floor, still laughing. She slinks onto the floor and crawls over to you, leaning over you, trying not to laugh.

“You ok?”

You look up and see about five Clarke’s looking smugly back at you. “I am very drunk.”

She giggles and lays next to you. “Me too.”

You both fall asleep shortly after.

\------ ------------------------

 


	2. Fountains

**_Clarke_ **

Morning comes before you know it, the bright Parisian light filtering through the window directly into your eyes. You blink a few times trying to straighten out your vision. You’re on the floor and Lexa is sleeping next to you, a little bit of drool coming from her lips. You make a mental note to tease her about that later. You let her sleep and use the opportunity to hit the bathroom before she wakes.

It’s far too early for your liking, but you know Lexa had a full day planned and you wanted her to have time at the bookstore, so you guessed it wasn’t so bad. Your head was killing you, but you figured some coffee would help that.

Lexa’s awake by the time you finish in the bathroom, sitting on the bed holding the empty bottle of champagne.

“We drank the whole thing. In coffee cups.” She laughs and immediately winces. “I have not had that much in a long time.”

“Still want to go out?”

She nods affirmative and rises slowly. “I am just going to uh, go in there for a bit.” She motions to the bathroom and you move out of the way so she can enter.

It takes you both a bit to get moving and you both make sure to wear sunglasses as you go out, but before long you’re off towards the bookstore.

“You should speak to your family today.” You frown and Lexa continues. “I know it is not my place, but if I were them I would be very worried not knowing you were safe.”

You frown further, but you know she’s right. “I’ll text my mom. You think they have wifi?”

“I would be surprised if they did not.”

You think you might actually call Raven instead, but Lexa doesn’t need to know that.

\------- -

You head right for the cafe as soon as you get there, throwing down some money and asking the barista to just give you whatever. The café does in fact have wifi, which upon hooking up to makes your phone nearly overload with messages and missed calls. Lexa smiles and pulls your chair out for you as you sit.

“I will let you deal with all that. If I do not return in half hour,” she looks behind her towards the rows and rows of books, “it is too late for me.”

“Take all the time you need.”

She nods and runs off into the shop. You immediately delete most of your calls and notifications, and instead dial Raven.

She picks up after the second ring.

“Clarke! Clarke what the fuck?”

“Hi Raven.”

“Clarke where are you?”

“Paris.”

“I saw your post. You’re really in Paris?”

“Yup.”

“Alone?”

“Yes,” you pause,  “Well, actually no.”

“No?”

You sigh and figure you might as well just tell her. “I freaked out and bought a ticket to Paris. And then I met someone.”

“What do you mean you met someone?”

“Her name is Lexa. I’m staying with her for a few days until she leaves for Italy.”

“And then you’re coming home?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. You’re safe though? Eating? You have a place to stay?”

“Yes Raven.”

She sighs in relief and tells you she’s just glad you’re ok. You talk for a little about the city, and you manage to dodge most of her questions about Lexa, mostly because you don’t know the answers. You ask her to talk to your mom for you, and she thankfully agrees. She has to end the call prematurely but she wishes you luck and makes you promise to call her again soon. It feels good to talk to Raven, and that makes you feel guilty for leaving. You know not all of your friends will have the same supportive attitude towards your actions, but Raven’s support is enough for now.

You sip your coffee and lean back, closing your eyes and taking everything in. You’ve always heard that every city has a feeling to it, but you’d never understood truly what that meant until now. Paris has a positive energetic buzz to it, but it’s also calming at the same time. It might just be the nature of the bookstore, but you don’t mind either way.

Lexa comes back and drops a stack of books onto the table with a loud thud. “I had to come back, I just kept finding more and more I wanted to read!” She’s out of breathe and wide eyed and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone so excited over books before, not even Bellamy.

You ask her to tell you about them and you learn that she’s found quite the assortment. She’s found a few science books, a few classic romance novels, some things that she has no idea what are, and then the one she’s most fascinated by – a double feature on the history of map making and the influence of horses on western culture. She pushes her glasses up on her nose and opens the book to a random page, reading some lines from it. You don’t absorb most of what she says, but she finds it fascinating.

You’re more confused about how she feels good enough to read despite the hangover than you are about why she’s so fascinated by such boring topics. You haven’t known her long, but it just makes sense.

She gets lost in her book and you pick up her copy of Romeo and Juliet. You’ve never read it; you had your friend Wells read it for you in high school, but you know you hate it. You know Lexa will be absorbed for a while, so you decide maybe you’ll give it a try.

It was more difficult to get through than you’d anticipated, but you were determined.

It was far more tragic and touching than you’d anticipated.

You may have shed a tear at the end.

Lexa may have caught you.

You try to play it off like she hadn’t seen you crying, but you know she knows. “What? It’s dusty in here.”

Lexa smiles at you and closes her book.  “It is a beautiful love story. Very tragic. Have you ever seen West Side Story?”

“The musical?”

She nods and you tell her you haven’t.

“If you like Romeo and Juliet, it is a better take on it. We will watch it if we have time.”

“Will?” You challenge. You actually are interested in watching it but it’s fun to mess with Lexa.

“Oh yes. It is of the utmost importance.” She glances at her watch and frowns, “We must go if we want to have time to do everything.” She purses her lips and looks down at her pile of books. “I suppose I will need to put these back.”

“You aren’t going to buy them?”

“I must be practical.” She states. “I will buy two.”

She chooses the double feature immediately, and you both work to choose the second, which ends up being a book on the history of Paris. You take an uber to the Eiffel tower, flipping through the book together as you go. The middle is filled with 20 pages of photos of the city throughout the years, and Lexa reads the captions to you. Normally this kind of thing would bore you but Paris is too beautiful to ever be boring.

You reach the tower quicker than you’d anticipated and you step out to look at it. Lexa tucks her book into her bag and moves next to you. “You want to go up?”

“Can we?”

She nods and you walk towards the ticket booth. She tries to distract you from seeing the prices but you’re wise to her trick by now and you sneak in front of her at the last second. The saleswoman speaks English and reads you the options in American dollars. Lexa frowns at your actions and you frown at the expensive prices. You ask the saleswoman for a moment and pull Lexa to the side.

“This is really expensive Lexa.”

“Well I was going to take care of it-“

“That’s over a thousand dollars! Each?”

Lexa frowns deeper. “You are going to leave soon. I wanted you to make the most of this experience.”

“That’s really sweet,” You assure her, “but this is a lot of money. At least let us pay for ourselves. I may not have money but my family does and I’m sure my mom wired me more.” Lexa tries to protest but you cut her off. “I won’t budge on this. You’ve gotten just about everything else for me. Let me have this?”

She stares at you and you’re starting to get irritated, but she finally nods.

“You’re one of those girlfriends who would pay for her girl until she literally had to sell a liver aren’t you?”

She doesn’t smile, but she does stop frowning, which you suppose is good enough. You consider just going ahead and paying for both of your tickets, but you know that would only make Lexa mad and you didn’t have enough time to fight with her. It dawns on you that you’re leaving tomorrow, and it’s surreal considering you literally just got here. You don’t have long to dwell on it because you’re riding to the top of the tower in a lift and it’s shaking a bit and you could honestly care less because you can see more and more of the city revealing itself as you go up and it’s utterly breathtaking. You snap as many pictures as you can from as many different angles as you can manage. The lift is crowded with other tourists but you and Lexa had managed to weasel your way into the front so you had a very clear view. Lexa gets pushed closer to you as the crowd tries to move to the front and she slinks her arm around you, resting her hand on your pocket. “Just incase of the pit-pocketers.” You think you feel her thumb rubbing over you.

You lean in closer to her and stare out over the city together.

You always find your gaze drifting back to her.

\----------------- -----

You head to lunch afterwards and Lexa passive aggressively asks you if you are going to pay, which you firmly tell her you are. You settle on a restaurant called “Frenchie”, which resembles a café in style but is much more crowded than its calm décor would imply. It’s apparently one of the more famous Paris locations and Lexa tells you that it’s gotten rave reviews, and as soon as you taste the food you understand why. You order some pulled pork and Lexa orders a Lobster roll and you both end up sharing, each fighting to eat as much of what’s in front of you as possible. You’d never even thought you’d liked lobster rolls but this place has totally converted you.

“Good decision Clarke,” Lexa thanks you through a full mouth, “I suppose I should also thank you for paying.” You make a smug face at her and she holds up a finger. “Never again.”

“We’ll see.” You scoff.

You head to some shops next, starting with a chocolate shop. You have to reign yourself in from buying one of everything, but you don’t manage to reign it in by much. You and Lexa sit on a bench outside of the shop and eat straight out of the to go bag, savoring each bite. You catch her staring at you out of the corner of your eyes, and you look over to meet her gaze. For the first time you can’t read her expression, and it scares you. You feel like she’s staring directly into your soul and you have no idea what she’s thinking.

“What?” It comes out a little harsher than you’d wanted but Lexa hadn’t noticed.

“Are you having a nice time Clarke?”

“I am,” you tell her, and you really are.

You don’t think about leaving.

\------ -------

You head to a clothing shop next and end up shopping for Lexa instead of yourself. You’d found the perfect sweater for her, beige and baggy and intricately stitched with a built in turtleneck scarf. She tries to act uninterested but you don’t let her pass it up. You get even more excited when you find a pair of leather pants, which you throw into the dressing room along with Lexa. She grumbles, but you know she’s actually excited about trying them on.

You’re both surprised that you’d gotten the sizes right on the first try, and you’re very pleased that you did because she looks incredible. She steps out and poses for you, smirking.

“You like?”

“Oh I like.”

And you truly do.

You buy a letterman for yourself, mostly because you can’t believe there’s lettermen in France, but also because you like the way Lexa looks at you when you put it on. You stumble across an entire table of scarves and Lexa suggests you buy matching ones as a joke but you suspect she’s half serious and you don’t think it’s a bad idea. You buy a blue one and Lexa a red; the colors don’t match but the design does and its some of the softest material you’ve ever felt.

You head back to the hotel to drop your things off and Lexa changes into her new outfit. “I rather like this.”

You can’t help but agree.

Lexa tells you that you’re taking a detour to visit a grocery store. You question her decision but she tells you that it’s actually a very interesting experience to go to a grocery store in another country. You trust her, even though you still think it’s a bit strange. When you get there however, things start to make sense. It’s not some grand affair, but it is different than anything you’ve ever seen and it fascinates you nonetheless. It’s huge and stacked like a warehouse and you don’t completely understand how it works but you find it fascinating. You don’t end up buying anything, but you’re still glad you went.

There’s a small public park nearby and you take some time to sit there and enjoy it. Lexa’s been uncharacteristically silent, although you can’t be sure it really is uncharacteristic. You don’t know much about her in hindsight, not that it matters considering you’ll be back in the US by tomorrow night, but you want to know her.

She tells you that there’s not much to tell, and you get the feeling she’s sorting through what she does and doesn’t want to share. There’s a past there, and you aren’t sure she wants to remember it.

You press anyway, although you try to tread carefully. “So you stayed close with Costia?”

 This seems to be a safe topic, and she stretches out comfortably. “It was an amicable separation. Um, yeah.” She drifts off smiling towards the ground.

“Do you think you’ll get back together?”

She takes a moment, but when she replies its firm. “No. We loved one another greatly, but, our relationship ran its course. We had different goals and paces we wished to take for our lives, but it was amicable. I am very lucky to have her in my life.” She smiles over at you. “And I am very lucky to have met you as well.”

The comment catches you by surprise. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

She licks her lips, “Things have been difficult these past few years. You have reminded me of the…the joys in life. The beauty. The spontaneity.”

You hate the way that her statement resonates within your body, warming you, and making you nervous. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, and it scares you. “I don’t think I’ve done that much.”

“You should not underestimate your worth Clarke.”

You aren’t sure how to reply.

\---------- -

**_Lexa_ **

You don’t understand it, but you feel drawn to Clarke. Not just the typical “she’s interesting” drawn, but the cosmic kind, the kind where just being near her makes everything clearer, makes you feel whole. You’d always believed in fate and destiny, and up until now you weren’t sure you had one. But Clarke, she feels right.

You think the universe conspired to bring you together.

You’ve caught yourself flirting with her over the past few days more than you’d normally consider appropriate, but she hadn’t seemed to mind and several times you thought she might be flirting back. You realize now that you care far too much for someone who’s about to be separated from you forever.

She asks you about Costia, and you answer her questions honestly. She also asks you if you often drool in your sleep, which you assure her that you don’t. She doesn’t believe you but she tells you that she thinks it’s cute. You tell her that you are a lot of things, but you aren’t _cute_. She believes that even less.

She decides it might be fun for you both to say random facts about one another. She takes the liberty of starting.

“My nipples are pierced.” She tells you that they’re just studs, nothing crazy, but that it feels really good when people touch them. You wish she hadn’t told you that and it takes a lot to resist the urge to ask to touch or see them.

You instead tell her something about yourself. “I’m adopted.”

“I had sex for the first time at 14.”

“I am starting to see a trend here.” You tease, and she grins smugly back at you.

“I enjoy the physical aspects of life,” She shrugs.

“I used to do kick-boxing.”

“That explains a lot. I hate exercise. Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at it. I just don’t want to do it.” She hums as she thinks of another fact. “My favorite food at the moment is short-rib pasta.”

“Mine is pizza, but my diet does not often include it. But short-rib pasta sounds fantastic.”

“I can’t cook for shit or I’d offer to make you some. Also we don’t have a kitchen, which might be a problem.”

“I can cook,” you brag, “and I am quite good if I do say so myself.”

She rolls her eyes playfully at your boasting. “I’m an artist. Well,” She clarifies, “I like to draw.”

“What do you draw?”

She pulls out her phone and navigates to a saved folder of her finished artwork.  Her work spans a wide range of scenes, but each is intricate and beautiful in its own way. That being said, you have your favorites. There’s one of her friends around a picnic table, and she takes the time to put a name to each face. They’re happy and relaxed and each clearly has their own personality, shown through their own unique lines and poses. You also really like the one of her father. The whole picture is actually him walking through a field, but the focus is on him and his bright smile.

She has a way of conveying the beauty of people through her art, seeing them for who they really are. You can’t help but wonder if she would draw herself in that same light.

You head to dinner shortly after, briefly discussing school, since it’s something neither of you would really care to talk about. It’s only her first year and she’s undeclared, but you both agree she has time.

She talks a lot more about her friends after that, and you get the sense from her stories that she’s a bit of a wild-child, not that you mind. You also form opinions on her friends.

Wells and Raven seem nice, and you can’t help the relief you feel when she tells you that she doesn’t reciprocate Well’s feelings. Bellamy stands out to you as well, but you don’t think you like him, and it certainly doesn’t have to do with how jealous you feel every time she talks about him.

You definitely hate Finn.

You don’t have many friends anymore, so you tell her instead about your family. Your sister, Anya, has made quite a name for herself in the local Italian business scene. She sounds a bit like Raven, only harsher, and she’s a lesbian as well. She always jokes that it must run in the family even though you aren’t actually related by blood. You don’t think she’s ever had an actual relationship, and even though she doesn’t really care you hope she ends up happy with someone. She’s always looked out for you and protected you, and you love her a lot, although you wouldn’t tell her that.

Your mother was an ex-military sergeant turned foster parent. She was strict, but she was also fair. She taught you respect and how to take responsibility, and about true strength and independence.

You also tell Clarke about your little brother, Aden. He was literally left on your doorstop as a baby, and you’ve loved him ever since.

It’s been three years since you’ve properly seen your family and you miss them, but the modern world has many good forms of communication so you can stay in touch.

You’ve never met your mother, she died shortly after giving you up, and you lived with your real father for a few years, up until you moved three years ago. You leave it at that. You can see in her eyes that she wants to ask more, but she can see in yours that you don’t want to talk about it anymore, and you’re grateful she doesn’t ask.

She tells you about her father, Jake. He was kind and smart and her best friend and she misses him horribly. The watch she wears is his. It’s broken, but she doesn’t care because it’s his and that’s enough for her.

She shares with you that she was in a bad place for a while after his passing, but that she’s doing better now. She admits that running away to a foreign country on a whim isn’t exactly a healthy response, but you chock it up to spontaneity.

She asks if she can take a selfie with you to post, and you agree on the condition that she reads any comments to you. You want to know what people say about the “mysterious hottie” traveling with their friend. Clarke laughs at you but tells you she’ll keep you posted.

 You head to some bars after that despite it being early in the night. You don’t have as much luck getting free drinks as you did the night before, although you are successful at one of the more expensive bars. You’re both tipsy by the time you leave the third place, sober enough to walk, not sober enough to maintain composure and definitely not sober enough to stop smiling.

You end up at the carousel by the Eiffel Tower and she dares you to ride it. You oblige, grabbing a stick from the ground as you go and raising it like a sword as you hop on the horse. She snaps a picture of that as well, just before you fall off trying to get down. You don’t hurt yourself, but your ego is bruised. She reaches down to help you up, and once your hands intertwine neither of you let go.

You walk a ways further until you reach a fountain much like the one you met at. It’s illuminated by several lights around it and it burbles gently. You sit on the edge and look out over the square.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“What if you didn’t?”

Her brow furrows in thought. “Can I do that?”

You shrug and smile reassuringly at her. “Why not?”

She takes a moment and then holds out her hands to you. “Empty out your pockets.”

You think it a strange request but you pass the contents of your pockets to her anyway. She makes a neat pile of your combined things next to the fountain and then stands on its edge. You realize what she’s about to do and you raise a brow to scold her. “Clarke….”

She grins down at you. “I’ve always wanted to swim in a fountain.”

“Clarke…”

Without hesitation she jumps off the edge into the fountain, water splashing up around her. She moves to stand under the fountains spout with her arms outstretched and lets the water rain down over her.

“I am going to have trouble getting you out of there aren’t I?”

She spins around a few times, taking it all in. “Come and get me.” 

You check around you for anyone who might abject to your actions, and then take the plunge. You chase her around the fountain’s center a few times before you finally catch her, wrapping her up in your arms. You’re both laughing as she turns in your arms to face you, placing both hands on your arms.

“Come with me.”

\----- ----------------

**_Clarke_ **

“Come with me.”

You stare into her eyes and feel like they’re boring into your soul. You still don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but she’s waiting for an answer. So you give her the best one you can think of.

You kiss her.

You have no idea what you’re doing, but you think you might be doing something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm not sold on my execution but dammit i will finish something i've started. so here's ch 2.

**Author's Note:**

> End ch 1
> 
> Soooo what do ya’ll think????????????????????????? I have plans! And I promise I will actually write this one. I promise.  
> please leave your comments, thoughts, kudos, questions, whatever. believe me i appreciate any thoughts. hopefully its a good start though!


End file.
